


Sparktober 2019 - 31 Days

by ALC_Punk



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Sparktober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-22 12:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 10,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20874023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALC_Punk/pseuds/ALC_Punk
Summary: 31 Days of Sparktober ficlets. Probably mostly fluffy, though there's at least one stupid College AU running around my head. And possibly merman AUs. And angst. Mostly fluff, though. I can manage short fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Day One! Lazing about in bed on an afternoon in Atlantis.

"Come in," Elizabeth called from where she was flopped on her bed. Leader of Atlantis expedition or not, there were times when 'flopping' was the precise term for what she was doing. Sprawled on her side, she glanced over her shoulder as the door slid open and John Sheppard stepped in.

"Doctor."

"Major."

One side of his mouth ticked up in that smirk that sometimes made her want to slap it off his face. Still...

"Just checking in."

"Mhmm." Pushing up on her elbow, Elizabeth moved to a sitting position, feet flat on her floor. Beneath her, the bed was a firm surface (Atlantis got four stars from her on the bedding situation). "Come here."

The smirk deepened into a smile, and John sauntered towards her.

Behind him the door shut.

Reaching up, she grabbed a handful of shirt as he stopped in front of her. Yanking, she dropped backwards, pulling him down onto the bed with her.

A laugh escaped them both, and then his mouth found hers, and there were other things to concentrate on.


	2. Day Two - That Time John Was a Mer-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth has always been drawn by the sea.

The sea has always called to Elizabeth Weir. Even as a young girl, she'd played among the rocks and shallows, letting the waves dance over her feet until her mother would make impatient sounds from the sand. Growing older, she learned to balance time at the shore with her studies and ever-expanding life. 

Exotic though the teenage and then adult world were, the still did not have the same pull as the scent of brine and dust. 

Holidays brought her back to the beach, dandling her feet in the shallows from the rocks. As an adult, no one called her back from the edge and she spent long hours there, staring out to sea, or writing in one of the note-books she used rather more frequently than her word processor. 

Ink stained her fingers the morning after the storm. Sun barely up, she was already on the rocks, pen in hand, paper in the other as she wrote and re-wrote, trying to capture the very feelings pulsing through the air. 

Something in the waves rolling in finally caught her attention. A flash of pale white, where there should be nothing. 

As the sun rose, the light came closer, until she could see the flash of white was skin. 

Breath caught, Elizabeth hastily stowed her utensils high above the flood marks and scrambled down to where the man was rolling and drifting in the water. 

Not a body, she hoped. There had been no news of a wreck, no intimation that storm had done more than dump buckets and churn the sea. The humid air choked her for a moment as she reached him and dropped to her knees, uncaring of the waves that met her. 

He was beautiful to look at; lean and muscled subtly, dark hair crowned his head and chased itself across his check and lower. Had he legs, he would have been taller, she estimated, eyes narrowed as she took in the scales which started in his abdomen and wove around his torso and down into a lengthy tail. 

Fins flicked at the end, twitching in a steady throb that didn't match the movement of the sea. 

A relieved breath escaped her as she finally ventured a hand to take his wrist. She could search for a pulse, but the movement of the tail suggested he was alive. 

The thrum of a heartbeat under her fingers matched the movement of his tail. 

She shifted, moving herself closer to his head, carefully touching his nose and lips, cradling his cheek as she wondered what to do. 

Blue eyes flickered open, and stared at her. Confusion and pain clouded them, and something else. 

Something that reminded her of the sea, the taste of brine at the back of her throat. 

"Hello," she murmured, and then she bent her head, unable to resist. Were this nothing more than a hallucination or a dream, at least she would have this fleeting moment. 

Their mouths met, and she tasted salt and more on his skin. 

Perhaps taking advantage of a confused and beached mer-person wasn't particularly bright, but then... Elizabeth couldn't tell if it were real or not. And as she made to pull away, a hand cradled the back of her head and his lips moved against hers, deepening the kiss. 

When she needed to breathe, she disengaged from his mouth and leaned back on her heels, panting a little. 

"Is this real?"

His eyes crinkled a little as he smirked at her, "As real as you need it to be." His tail swished back and forth with more purpose now. 

"Are you injured?" She finally asked, finding her intelligence returning a bit, now that she wasn't kissing the man who tasted of the sea. "Sorry, I should have asked before."

"No. Just... disorientated." Reaching up, he rubbed his hand over his face. 

Such a human gesture. 

"Elizabeth," she blurted, then flushed. That was the sort of thing one was supposed to say before one kissed a random stranger. 

Though it wasn't as though he were a strange man on the street. 

Just a strange man in the sea. 

"I like it," reaching out, he touched her hand. "I'm John."

Turning her hand, she took his in a firm grip and shook it, like a normal person. Who was shaking the hand of a man with a _giant fish tail for legs_.

Awkward now, she slowly stood. "I should--you should get back to the depths. Or where you came from."

Wriggling in the shallows, he rolled a bit into the slightly deeper wavelets rolling in with the tide. "I'll be fine." Pushing up, he managed to sit as though he were riding the beach side-saddle. Then he held out a hand to her. "You should come with me."

"I can't breathe underwater." Ah, yes, the practical nature wins over the fantastical. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "I mean, not without an aqualung, or some sort of air system."

One side of his mouth tipped upwards, "I can breathe for you, Elizabeth."

A shiver went through her, the feel of him saying her name aloud, rolling it around his mouth. Plus, she was beginning to feel chilled from her wetting in the sea. 

Looking out across the ocean, she felt the temptation pull at her--she could view the sea in a whole different fashion, she could chase the feeling that had haunted her since she was a child. But she was a more practical person, as an adult, and so she swallowed and met his gaze. "Tomorrow. I need to get the equipment I need. Will you return for me then?"

"You won't need it," he said, but he smiled at her. "At the same time tomorrow morning, Elizabeth. I will show you the world."

"Until then." 

She turned from him and hurried back to the rocks, retrieving her papers and pen. There were plans to make, places to contact...

Elizabeth had always been called by the sea.

Tomorrow, she would answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My love of the macabre made it very hard not to make this one a painfully bittersweet ending.


	3. Day Three - Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Elizabeth in the rain

Rain wasn't really John's favorite. But standing on one of the Atlantis towers, watching Elizabeth stand it in, her face raised, was something he could allow. It had been a long year, and it wasn't going to get better. The Wraith were out there, planning invasions, culling, doing their best to destroy the fragile peace of their lives.

Yet, here in the enclosed world of one tower, he could almost believe that there was nothing to do but explore.

No plans for the inevitable invasion, no worries about oversight, no hoops to jump through for supplies and people.

A soft laugh escaped Elizabeth, and she turned to look at him. Even at the distance caused by the rain, he could see the laughter in her eyes. Sometimes, he wondered how she managed to see so much good when everything felt hopeless. "Not a fan?"

The temptation won out, and he stepped out into the rain, catching her in his arms and holding her. "Of the rain? No."

She was smiling as he kissed her.

With the rain falling and blanketing the world in watery fuzziness, he could pretend for the moment that there was nothing and no one but them.


	4. Day Four - explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John isn't going to be able to defuse the bomb.

The way his hands shook told her all she needed to know, and Elizabeth kept her eyes open as he looked up at her. No point in closing her eyes against the inevitable.

"I can't do it," John said, head tilting a little, "I'm sorry, Elizabeth."

Guilt edged his words, and Elizabeth didn't resist the urge to reach out, cupping his cheek. If this were to be their last moments--Atlantis and wormholes and traveling galaxies couldn't solve everything, even if she wanted them to--she wasn't going to restrain herself.

"Not your fault, John. I insisted, remember?"

Their deaths were not his burden to bear.

He shook his head, but his hand came up to press against hers.

Time stood still as the seconds counted down. No point in second-guessing how she could have made the better choice, no point in accusing Lorne of being wrong about how peaceful these natives were, no point in worrying what the IOA would say about their expedition leaders being emotionally compromised.

No last confessions; neither of them were that trite.

She swallowed, keeping her eyes on his as the world went white.

-

"YES!"

Rodney's voice echoed around, them, excited laughter and babbling from others faded into the background as Elizabeth swayed in place, realizing the fade to white hadn't been an explosion. "_Daedelus_," she whispered.

Looking up at her, John's eyes were wide. He surged to his feet and took a single step towards her--her hand was still on his cheek, his fingers still draped across hers.

For a single moment, the world around her took a breath and Elizabeth wanted to answer that surge and fold herself against him, grab him by the back of his head and drag his mouth down to hers. But that wasn't who she was; who they could be with such an audience.

Instead, she ducked and pulled her hand away, stepping into him and wrapping him in an awkward hug.

She'd done that before, it was _allowed_.

Hesitant arms wrapped around her, perhaps a little too tight, but there.

Later, she told herself. Later, she could remonstrate with herself on not taking the moment, on not tackling the man to the deck and kissing him senseless.

Adrenaline still bubbling away through her veins, she pulled free of him and turned to face the others. "Excellent job, team."

"Never doubted you, Rodney," called John as he began exchanging cheerful back-slaps and hand-shakes with their rescuers.

Just before pulling her into a hug, Teyla gave Elizabeth a very knowing look.

But she said nothing, as she always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My prompt was 'explosion'. I did consider splitting this into two days, but ended up leaving it one.


	5. Day Five - Oral Sex Drabble and a Half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John really likes going down.

John Sheppard has never been particularly shy about going down on a woman. The way they twitch and moan, the taste, the desperate fingers dragging at his hair, the thighs gripping his head, the feel of how much power he has just with the stroke of his tongue--it's always been one of his favorite sex acts. 

It's one of the reasons he tended to keep his hair longer, despite regulations. 

Finding out just how much Elizabeth enjoys oral sex, particularly when he's teasing her until there's nothing she can think about but how close she is--knowing he drove her to that--is a whole new level of favoritism. It's when her voice is hoarse from begging that he allows himself to give her release, knowing when to flick his tongue or suck just _so_. 

The result is worth it. And when she's recovered, he starts again.


	6. Day Six - Sparring + Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teyla teaches Elizabeth the _best_ moves.

"Teyla taught me that move," she informs him. 

From where he's gasping on the mat, with Elizabeth straddling his torso, hands pinning his, John isn't really complaining. Not when she's hot and wet against him, her damp heat rocking against his hard cock. 

Stifling a moan, he struggles halfheartedly, "We really should continue--"

"Mm." Shifting upwards, she reaches between them, and positions his dick before sinking down slowly. "We should."

Not bothering to stifle himself, John lets out an appreciative sound as she starts moving against him, grinding and pressing down in a way he knows will get her off fast. "Naked wrestling," he manages to gasp before she leans down to kiss him, "Best idea?"

"One of them," she murmurs. Then she kisses him, tongue sliding into his mouth without any sort of preamble, and he's lost to the feel of her surrounding him. 

It definitely won't be long before he suggests doing this again. Even if she did cheat by having Teyla give her pointers. That he'd his own training when it came to hand-to-hand, and that it was his _own_ fault that her naked breasts were a distraction, he would ignore.


	7. Day Seven - Paperwork is Tiring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John rescues Elizabeth from paperwork. Fluff.

A long month of missions and debriefs, arguing with the IOA and paperwork that never seemed to end. The sort of thing that had once given Elizabeth pause when she considered her career as a diplomat. No one ever warned her about the endless requisitions or the arguments that supply masters would use to keep 'non-vitals' from circulating. 

Rubbing a hand over her face, she leaned back in her chair, considering the stack she had yet to finish. 

Sound from the doorway made her jump slightly, but she managed to mask it as she looked up and found John standing there. "Colonel?"

"Thought I'd still find you here." He looked as tired as she did, though there was the impression of a smile on his lips. "Up out of your chair, Elizabeth."

Gesturing at the scattered files and discs on her desk, she raised an eyebrow. 

"They'll be there in the morning."

Releasing a sigh, she nodded, and slowly stood. "I suppose they will." Moving around the desk, she tidied the stacks slightly, then tilted her head at him. "Come to put me to bed?"

The impression of a smile deepened, "I'll tuck you in with hot cocoa, even."

"Can't," she muttered as she walked past him, letting her fingers brush his as he fell in step. "We're out again."

"Mm. Pity." He nudged her with a shoulder. "Guess I'll have to find a different soporific."

She glanced sideways at him and was startled into a laugh at the way he was waggling his brows. "I won't really need one, unfortunately."

"'S all right." Stepping closer as they turned a corner where they weren't observed, he caught her hand in his. "I'm too tired to let you ride my tongue anyway."

A groan escaped her. "If you're going to be like that, I'm leaving you here on watch."

He snorted, but tugged her closer, then released her hand. "I'll behave."

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it." She didn't have to look to know he was waggling his brows again. 

Not bothering to respond, he took her hand again. They were silent for the rest of the walk to the area their quarters were in. Elizabeth hesitated only a little before pulling him into her room after her. It was late, she was tired, and she knew she'd sleep better for the heat of him at her back. 

It wasn't the first time she'd given into the temptation, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.


	8. Day Eight: There Was Only One Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Off-world negotiations include discovering they're sharing quarters.

John had stayed up after the diplomats had been put to bed, letting the captain of the locals treat him to a little camaraderie and alcohol. All in the name of peace in Pegasus, of course.

So when he was shown to his room and staggered in, he wasn't paying much attention.

At least, not until he stripped off his shirt, and heard a soft murmur from the bed. He froze, mentally scrambling for what would happen if he tossed someone out of his room (this wasn't the first planet to provide 'comfort' to visiting dignitaries, and he doubted it would be the last), before his brain caught up with the sound.

"Liz'beth?"

"Mmph." She shifted a little, one eye cracking open. "They said quarters are short this year."

He stared at her, then the bed. It wasn't as large as a hotel king, but it wasn't the tiny camp bed he'd slept in off and on over the years while deployed. "I'll take the floor."

"Don't be an idiot, there's room, we're adults--" she broke off to stifle a yawn. "Come to bed, John."

The words caught him unawares, in that sleepy voice and the rumpled look, Elizabeth looked like more than just the woman he worked with in Atlantis. He closed his eyes and swallowed against the sudden surge of awareness. She was right. They were adults. They could handle this.

Stripping off his boots and trousers, he shuffled over to the lamp and blew it out before returning to the bed.

The bed was a little cool, but he stayed on the edge, not wanting to crowd her.

Fingers poked his side, then caught at his arm, "You'll get cold."

Deciding that arguing was something they could do in the morning, he shifted more towards the middle of the bed. And under the blankets.

With a grumpy little sound that made him smile, Elizabeth tucked herself in against his side, let out a sigh and began to snore.

Closing his eyes, he let the alcohol tumble his brain down into the realm of sleep.


	9. Day Nine: Unicorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idek

"Unicorns."

John nodded solemnly, then added, "I mean. That's not what Teyla said they're called. But they were totally unicorns."

Reaching up to rub a hand over her face, Elizabeth seriously considered whether Sheppard's team had been smoking something psychedelic, then discarded the idea. While she wouldn't put it past the men in the group, Teyla was far too competent and wary to allow them to lose their edge when in a potentially-dangerous situation. 

"So." She straightened and raised her eyebrows. "Unicorns."

"Yep. Also, they had these gazelle-things they raise for the meat," now he was looking a little hopeful and proud of himself. "Turns out, they're real easy to breed and keep, and we're going to negotiate for a couple of head so that the Athosians on the mainland can supplement our supplies."

Putting the unicorns aside, Elizabeth allowed herself to give John an approving smile. After all, he appeared to have manage one of the goals of his mission. 

And so far hadn't blown up anything.


	10. Day Ten: You Did What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mission de-brief?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame this one and the previous and the one after on Little Red.

"You did what?"

There was a pause as Elizabeth was clearly convincing herself not to murder him with her bare hands. In the beginning of their relationship, she'd been better at keeping her face blank when he'd being his mission reports.

Now, though, she was letting him see the exasperation, frustration, and sheer annoyance.

John kinda felt that was a great step, even if a part of him wondered if he'd ever really graduated out of grade school. He wasn't pulling pig-tails anymore, just having adventures in the Pegasus galaxy.

Somewhere, he was sure his mother would slap him across the back of his head and tell him that was the _stupidest_ flirting she'd ever heard of.

"It was an accident, Doc?" He offered, knowing it would annoy her further.

Her eyes closed. Minutes passed before she finally released a breath and stared at him. "I see."

Which was his queue to add, "It would have been worse if Teyla hadn't convinced them to let us go."

The look on her face told him she might have been fine with Teyla failing to be convincing. Then it cleared, and she nodded. "That is good news, at least. Now, continue, and please don't tell me that you failed to get the supplies we needed."

One side of his mouth twitched, and he fought it down. Flirting was one thing, getting her to actually murder him (in cold blood in some fashion where no one would find his body, he was sure), wasn't a good plan.

Not if he wanted to eventually convince her he wasn't entirely an idiot. "We managed, yes."

"Good. I expect a full report on my desk in the next few days." She turned to look down at her data pad, then fixed a bland smile on her face. "That will be all, Major."

Excellent. Now, if he could just convince Teyla not to tell her the truth about how they'd gotten those supplies...


	11. Day Eleven: Drunken Season Two Closet Make-Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorne brings the alcohol. Lizzeh and Shep make bad decisions.

They really shouldn't be doing this. And Elizabeth did actually articulate that several times as she dragged John into the nearest room and locked the door behind them. It was a pokey little space, but perfect for their purposes.

"Right. Should stop," he agreed, though his hands continued what they were doing.

Whatever Lorne's team had brought back from their recent successful mission for supplies packed an amazing punch. The sort of punch Elizabeth hadn't felt since late nights studying for her degree with tequila.

And just like those nights, she was horny. She could ignore needing sex in the general sense. As the leader of the expedition, it wasn't as though she had a lot of options outside of her own hands and battery-operated devices (she'd seen the supply manifestos, she wasn't the only woman with such needs). But when she was drunk, when she was tired, when it had just been a rough month--

It wasn't something she could ignore so easily.

Not when she knew John's hands and mouth were so wonderfully, frightfully, good at what they did.

Even if they were fumbling in a closet like teenagers.

"Bed later," John said suddenly, before he dropped to his knees and began dragging her pants down her legs.

Leaning back against the wall, Elizabeth lifted her feet when directed as she divested her of enough clothing to do what he wanted.

When his mouth connected with her inner thigh, she grabbed onto the nearest shelf, and hoped that her legs wouldn't give out.


	12. Day Twelve: That Time John and Elizabeth Were Vampires

"Any regrets?"

Glancing sideways at her fellow vampire, and lover, Elizabeth scowled. "Only one. Trying to eat a Wraith."

John snickered, "Hey, I tried to warn you." He stretched his arms over his head and heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Energy siphoned from humans through their digestive systems just isn't the same as blood."

Disgruntled, Elizabeth smacked him, but then she shrugged and considered. Being undead hadn't been the reason they'd both been selected for the Atlantis expedition, but she'd always assumed it had been a factor. Finding out there were space vampires in another galaxy hadn't thrilled Stargate Command. 

It hadn't thrilled her, either. More competition for food was never a good thing. 

"At least they're fairly easy to kill," she mumbled. Although, getting Wraith blood out of her clothes was really getting to be an annoyance. Earth shouldn't have restricted their clothing allowances so tightly. 

"Don't let Rodney hear you say that."

She snorted. The human still didn't believe in real vampires as opposed to alien-bug-vampires that ate energy. 

Even seeing Elizabeth feed off one of the dying Wraith victims when she'd been trapped and desperate hadn't convinced him. She nudged John with her elbow. "That's his problem. Now will you shut up and let me look at the sky in peace?"

"Dawn's coming." 

"I noticed." She could feel the pull of sleep pulsing through her, and wondered if this was how a human felt when their heart still beat. 

Probably.

"Let's go to bed."

An agreeable suggestion. Turning, Elizabeth caught his hand and let him pull her back into the dim of the hallways and back to the heavily-barricaded quarters they shared. Even alien sunlight was bad for a vampire's health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't even ask. I don't have any shame.


	13. Day Thirteen: Another Explosion (John is stupid and self-sacrificing but not dead)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one dies.

The explosion took them by surprise. In the chaos, Elizabeth could feel pain, and the heat from the flames. But what mattered most was the heavy weight sprawled across her. She could feel something damp and sticky, and the weight was far too still. 

John had reflexes that were better than hers, he'd realized as it was happening and thrown himself into her, shielding her from part of the blast. 

"Idiot," she whispered, as she finally got her shaking fingers to his neck and felt the faint beat of his pulse. "You are a fucking idiot, John Sheppard."

She knew if he'd been conscious that he would have argued. She closed her eyes and told herself they'd have this argument once he was awake. Even if he was still in his hospital bed, using his injuries to garner her sympathy.


	14. Day Fourteen: Short Desk Sex

God bless the SGC. No windows in the tiny office they'd given her to use for the duration of her stay during the current briefings, de-briefings, budget arguments, and meetings that never seemed to end. Elizabeth loved Atlantis, would hate to ever leave it permanently, but there were times when she detested having an office everyone could see into. 

Being bent over her desk and fucked out of her mind was one of them. She gripped the edges of the standard office-issue desk beneath her, and closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of John's cock thrusting into her at a rate that would see her climaxing shortly. 

When John's body shifted, bending over hers and pressing her even further into the desk, she let out a strangled sound. 

_Fuck_. She so did not miss Earth, but she did miss the opportunities for sex in her office.


	15. Day Fifteen: Ritual Public Sex to Seal a Treaty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really like this one. Also, it probably could be vaguely dubious consent?

The ritual was conducted in silence. 

John carefully led Elizabeth, blind-fold still in place from the earlier portion (which had included bathing and oils, and herbs that reminded him of funky college hole-in-the-wall night clubs) until they reached the altar. 

Once there, he removed the robes they'd been given, and she removed the blind-fold. 

Hands on her waist, John lifted her onto the stone plinth, fighting back a smile when she made a slight moue of distaste as the cold stone caused her flesh to trail goosebumps everywhere. It was a fascinating sight, and John promised himself he'd inspect the phenomenon at a later date. 

Trailing his fingers over her legs, he spread them as he moved to kneel at her feet. 

Up close, he could see she was already wet with lubrication, and he looked up to find her gaze dark and full of another thing he'd ask her about later. Knowing public sex turned her on was definitely something to explore. 

Remembering the number, length, and rhythm of the required tongue movements (and if anyone had told him there were organized cultures that had an entire negotiation ritual built on one partner bringing another to climax in a very precise fashion, he would have laughed at them; finding out it was true still blew his mind). 

He set to his task, hoping he managed the correct sequence--he knew what got Elizabeth off, had certainly managed it enough. But this was not the quite the right speed and movement she usually enjoyed. 

A glance up at her showed she was on the edge, almost there before he knew it. 

Definitely discussing the public sex thing. 

She was restraining herself, he realized. Keeping her hands placed where she'd been directed when they'd been trained in the ritual. He could practically see her arguing with herself that she couldn't grab onto his head, that she couldn't pull him tight against her. 

His cock twitched, and he made another couple of notes to himself he hoped he'd remember before he reached the end of the sequence, and Elizabeth climaxed for him, her back arching and hips twitching as she tried to hold herself still. 

A part of him missed the vocalization of her pleasure, but silence had been one of the first rules laid down upon them. 

Getting shakily to his feet, he stepped back and waited for the gesture from their counter-parts that they should move on to the next step in the ritual. And he really really hoped that he could last longer than a second when Elizabeth took his cock in her mouth. 

It would be really embarrassing to come faster than a teenager.


	16. Day Sixteen: Camping!

"I wouldn't have taken you for someone who enjoyed camping," John said, leaning back contentedly against his log.

Across the fire from him, Elizabeth shrugged, her teeth catching the light as she grinned at him. "I'll have you know, I was a girl scout for twelve years."

He couldn't quite see it, with the light from the fire, but he was betting she had her eyebrow raised. Leaning a little to the side, he confirmed the impression, and settled back to feel smug to himself. 

Spending time like this with her was dangerous. No one else around, the ease they had--too easy, really. Having to return to the real world always sobered her. 

But it didn't stop him from dragging her away from their expedition when there was down-time to do so. It didn't happen enough, and there were days when he considered throwing it all away, grabbing Elizabeth, and running for a deserted world where no one could find them. They knew how to disable a stargate, they could survive on nuts, berries, and twigs. 

Probably. 

Especially now he knew she'd been a girl scout. 

Elizabeth tossed another piece of wood on the fire and heaved a sigh that he was pretty sure could be heard from Earth. "We can't run away, you know."

It was like her to know what he was considering. "I know." Then he snorted. "I bet you have badges for dedication and service."

"Camping, friendship, crafting... Hrm. I might have gotten one for oral sex, but I don't think my troop leader would have agreed to making that an official badge."

He banged his head back against his log. "I don't think oral sex is something girl scouts are supposed to know."

"You've lived a very sheltered life."

A chuckle escaped him, and he let out his own sigh as he looked at the firelight flickering in the trees over their heads, the sky a dark mass of occasional stars beyond. "Bet I could get a badge, too."

"Mmm. You could."

He waggled his eyebrows, even though she couldn't see them. "You could make me one."

"Let's just make them imaginary," she suggested. Her voice was beginning to get closer. 

Tilting his chin down, he saw she was making her way towards him, shuffling on her knees. There was a lazy fire in her eyes that he could feel running through his own veins. 

"Comms are set to silent except for emergencies," she murmured as she reached him and lifted her leg to slowly straddle his lap. 

"Don't jinx it."

She was smiling as she lowered her head to kiss him.


	17. Day Seventeen: That Time Elizabeth Was Secretly A Fairy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John got to be a mer-person, after all.

It was only in the dead of night that Elizabeth could give in to her nature. Standing on the tallest of the towers of Atlantis, hands clasping the railing, she tipped her head back and took in a deep breath. Letting it out, she released the hold she had on her illusions. 

They had always been impeccable, even when she'd been young--though at eight, her parents had been holding their own illusions over her, just in case. 

Hunching her back a little, she sucked in another swift breath and blew it out as her wings unfolded and unfurled with a snap. Rolling her shoulders, she let the wind dance along the edges and membranes, until she felt that urge, the craving--

With a lunge upwards from the balcony, she threw herself out into the wind, letting it take her as it would, wings beating or holding still as she glided, spun, and gloried in the night.

Eventually, she returned to the tower, enfolding herself in illusions again and giving the night a sad look. 

She turned to go in and found John standing in the shadow of the doorway, eyes wide and startled even in the dim light. Freezing, she stared at him, feeling her pulse race at being discovered. It had been a very long time since anyone had discerned her true nature--even medical professionals were fooled by the facade of her magic. 

"I was..." he cleared his throat, "I was worried when I saw you throw yourself off the tower."

Remaining silent, she watched and waited. Silence could cause truth to run free, or hatred to coalesce. It was an excellent tactic at the negotiating table, and could be used to cut through bullshit a time or two. 

With John Sheppard, it could make him babble when he knew he'd made a mistake. 

But here, in the dark, he remained silent. 

"You're not afraid," she finally said. Nor was he shouting her nature from the hills, though that could come later. 

"No."

"Why not?"

One side of his mouth tipped up. "I fly space-ships with my mind through an inter-dimensional portal. Fairy wings are just old hat."

"They're not--" She broke off and scowled, looking away. 

He slowly moved towards her, stopping when he was within touching distance. "They're beautiful," he said. "And I'm not--this is your secret, Elizabeth."

Closing her eyes, she swallowed at his implied promise. Then she drew in a breath and opened her eyes to meet his gaze. "Would you like to take them for a test flight?"

The lopsided grin turned into a full-blown one, and he held out his hand to her. "You can do that?"

"Mmm. Just don't scream like a girl." 

Taking his hand, she pulled them both back to the edge of the balcony. Releasing her wings again, she added the spell her mother had taught her for lightening any loads, then raised her brows and pulled John up against her. "You'll need to hold tight as well."

"Oh," he murmured, leaning just a little so his mouth was next to her ear. "I think I can manage that."

A shiver that had nothing to do with the wind or the night traveled through her. And then Elizabeth counted to three and threw them both off the balcony.


	18. Day Eighteen: Storm/Eye Post We Almost Died Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the box.

"Gotta stop meeting like this," John says, hands on Elizabeth's hips as he hoists her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist. The wind is surrounding them, dancing with a slight shimmer of rain as far (far, far, far) below, the sea crashes against the city. The storm is over with, but there are still the aftershocks.

Still the things that remind them that they're alive, that they're human.

Elizabeth's fingers dig through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as he fumbles between them.

They're barely hanging onto sanity, here. To each other, even, and John gets himself lined up and thrusts.

The little breathless sound that escapes her makes him lean in and bite down on the fabric covering her shoulder.

_Alive, alive, alive_, the refrain chases through him as he fucks the woman in his arms, as she rolls her hips and scratches and claws at him.

Frantic to the last, until there's nothing but the sensation of _falling_ forever.

When he releases her legs, she staggers and slides down the wall, all knobbly knees and arms wrapped around them. He turns, tucking himself away. He needs a shower. He needs a fucking bed. But he leans into the wall and lets gravity pull him down next to her.

There's a sound that isn't the ocean, a heaving, gasping noise that isn't the pleasure they just shared.

John wants to lurch back to his feet and run.

He's good at fucking, he's good at chasing the orgasm out of a woman, he's good at shooting things and killing people.

But this?

Not his thing.

When a hand blindly grasps at him, he catches it, wraps it in his own.

Elizabeth's fingers thread through his.


	19. Day Nineteen: Atlantis Halloween Bash (Extended Mix)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longer version of what was originally posted to tumblr.

"Travolta?" Elizabeth had one eyebrow raised as she took a good, long, look at John's costume for the first annual Atlantis Halloween Bash. It was white and shiny, covered in fringe (for some reason) and reminded her pf the terrible spandex and sequin monstrosities she could remember vaguely from television and movies growing up.

"Well, yeah." Striking a badly-choreographed pose, he smirked at her, "I'm just waiting to hustle."

Had he lost a bet? It made sense, Lorne had been looking particularly smug about something over the past week. Tricking his superior into an awful costume would strike him as amusing. "You look ridiculous."

Crossing his arms over his chest, John huffed out a breath. "Yeah? Well, who're you supposed to be? The no-fun police?"

"Yep." Gesturing at her standard-issue Atlantis uniform, she replied. "That's me. Now, Colonel, I suggest you head on into the party. And try not to be offended when Teyla mocks your attire."

"My 'attire' and I are going to have fun," he retorted.

He almost managed a good sashay as he turned and stalked away from her.

Tilting her head to watch his ass in that getup, Elizabeth had to appreciate the fabric. Even if it was a horrible color on him.

Then she let out a sigh and headed up to the control room where she nodded to the duty officer and went into her office. Someone had to remain on watch while everyone was having a party. And she was certainly not going to let anyone else do it.

Besides, with the relative quiet, she might even be able to finish the report the IOA were asking for.

Nearly an hour later, still buried in editing her thoughts on the last of the report, someone tapped on her door. She mumbled something vaguely like _just a minute_, but mostly ignored the sound of someone walking in and settling into the chair across from her.

She even ignored the soft sounds of things being set on her desk and the slowly-coalescing scent of hot cider and cinnamon.

_There_. With a flourish, she tied out the last of the open items and saved her work. Stretching her arms over her head, she felt her back crack and her neck release some of the tension that had locked into it.

"Brought you some food."

The mild comment made her focus on the man sitting across from her. He was still in the terrible costume. "Thank you."

The cider tasted as good as it smelled, and she wrapped both hands around the mug and took a long breath of the fumes. It reminded her of days sitting in windows, staring out at fog and multi-colored trees.

"You could have mentioned you'd taken the watch."

"Someone had to."

"Yeah, but, it didn't have to be you."

"True." She took another sip, then leaned back in her chair. "But I didn't have a costume, anyway."

John pulled a face and stole one of the cookies from the plate he'd brought her. She spotted several types of cookie, and a couple of slices of pizza under the napkin he'd tossed over it. At least she wouldn't starve. "I didn't, either. Rodney convinced one of his internet buddies to ship this over."

"In your exact size?"

"Well, he did ask."

"Mhmm." She chuckled, and drank some more of her cider.

The silence felt comfortable, and she continued to watch as he fidgeted with the fringe on his costume before finally breaking. "It was Lorne."

"I thought as much." Setting the mug down on her desk, she took one of the cookies and bit into it.

He scowled at her.

"You never struck me as the Abba type."

The scowl slowly morphed into a grin. "What? You can't picture me tearing up the disco?"

"Nope." She finished her cookie and took another.

"Oh ye of little faith." With a bound in his step, he got to his feet and moved her chairs to the side of the room. Then, with a bit of a hip-shake, he began dancing to the music in his head.

It was a ridiculous rendition of disco, with some sort of weird 80s electric slide, and the Time Warp thrown in. But it was all John Sheppard, and Elizabeth started laughing as he twirled one last time and ended up in the classic arms spread diagonally pose.

"My mom taught me that," he informed her before dragging a chair back to the desk and dropping into it.

"Good on her." Wiping the laughter-induced tears from her eyes, Elizabeth gave a sigh. "Thank you."

"For what?"

She gestured at the plate, and then at him. "For keeping me company."

"Well. As the military commander," he turned, so he could slouch into the back of the chair, "I figured it behooved me to act it."

"I see." Reaching out, she scooped up one of the many data pads on her desk and held it out to him. "I assume, then, that you have time to finish this report on your last mission?"

"Well, that--"

"Come now, John," she leaned her elbow on her desk and gave him a smug look, "As the military commander, you're not considering shirking your duty?"

He chuckled, then reluctantly took the pad from her. "You play dirty, Elizabeth."

"You weren't complaining last night," she returned saucily.

For a moment, his face went still, and then he smirked at her. "So I wasn't." He waved the data pad at her and then shifted so he could comfortably use it. "Let's hope you play just as dirty tonight."

"I did leave my halo in my other pants."

He scoffed, but let the terrible joke slide.

Elizabeth found herself smiling as she returned to her own work. It wouldn't be long before the evening would come to a close, and she could turn things over to the night shift leader. Then maybe she'd enjoy investigating Mr. Travolta's hideous costume. Or helping John burn it. She couldn't decide which.


	20. Day Twenty: Strip Poker On Daedalus

John was glaring at Elizabeth and trying not to shift. It was already uncomfortable with his naked ass stuck to the chair, shifting would just make it worse.

"I think it's your bet, Colonel," there was a definite smile on her face as she tapped the pile of chips between them. "Though I'm not sure you have much left to lose."

Just his sock. This was the last time he gave into Weir's innocent and pure image. After all, she'd just played him for a fool and stolen all his clothing. OK, it was his own fault for suggesting they play strip poker. But still. They were stuck on their way back to Atlantis from Earth, with _Daedalus_ traveling at what felt like a crawl. He had to get entertainment some way.

"Call," he growled, tossing the last two chips onto the pile.

She studied him for a moment, then let out a soft sigh, "I'm afraid I have to fold. You win this round."

With a wry look on her face, she pushed the chips to his side of the table and then reached down and carefully peeled her shirt off. She was wearing what looked like a sports bra underneath, but it was more skin than she'd shown before.

John took a moment to appreciate that; he wasn't exactly looking for a relationship, but he wasn't dead. Then frowned as he realized she was placing her hands on the table and preparing to stand.

"It's also past my bedtime."

"But--"

She winked at him, tossing her shirt his way. "Good night, Colonel."

When she was gone, he sagged against the chair, wincing as the cold metal touched his naked back. Now he just had to regain some of his dignity and dress before someone like Caldwell wandered past.


	21. Day Twenty-One: Pranking Into Porn (Briefly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stop the image of Elizabeth getting a bucket of water dumped over her out of my head...

Elizabeth had her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised in a very specific glare as she stared at John. All she'd wanted was to come out on the balcony for a little piece, and now she was soaking wet, and smelled a bit briny. "A bucket?"

The icy tone made him twitch, though he managed not to hunch his shoulders, it was a close thing. "I was practicing."

"For?"

"Well..." He let out a breath and then shrugged, "Doesn't matter." Reaching down, he scooped up the second bucket and dumped it over himself. After all, what was a little dignity when you'd stepped in it, and needed to apologize?

It worked, or at least, seeing him look like an idiot, softened the line of her lips. 

"Just who were you intending to catch with this prank, Colonel?" The eyebrow was still raised in interrogation. 

He'd seen grown men collapse before that eyebrow before. He wasn't too proud to be one of them. "Rodney. He's been extra-smug since that last little tussle with the wraith."

"Mmm." Her arms slowly relaxed, and she let them drop to her sides. "So you were going to drop a bucket of water on him."

"Yup."

"Hrmmm. Seems a little childish," she said, slowly moving towards him. Now that she had relaxed, her eyes were starting to get that gleam in them. The one that had spelled trouble for a lot of people, John included. 

"Well, childish seems to work best on McKay."

_That_ made her laugh a little, then she was in his personal space, face suddenly a lot closer than before. "How about you apologize, and then I'll help you think up a slightly better prank, John."

Apologize? He frowned, started to ask the question, then stopped, eyes going wide as she nudged up against him. 

Her mouth brushed the underside of his chin, and he was suddenly aware that her breasts were pressed against his chest. He could feel her nipples hardening through their clothing. "What kind of apologizing did you have in mind?"

It almost came out suave.

"Mmm. On your knees, perhaps?" 

He swallowed, all thought of childish pranks and McKay deserting him. 

"This is revenge for drenching me in sea water," Elizabeth murmured. There was a flash of a grin on her face as she stepped away and closed the door that led out to where they were. There wasn't a lock, but most people didn't use this balcony anyway. 

She moved and took a seat on the bench. 

"I'm good with revenge, apologies, making amends," John said joined her, dropping to his knees and beginning to open her trousers. "Now, life up a bit, and spread your legs for me."

The flare of heat in her eyes told him exactly how much she was looking forward to this. She lifted up, helping him get her trousers and underwear off. Be didn't bother removing her boots, just shifted to get her knees bent and spread. Then he bent to his task.


	22. Day Twenty-Two: Another Mission De-Brief (Variation on a Theme)

Elizabeth resists the urge to rub a hand over her face. It's not that late in the day, and it hasn't been that stressful. But she can tell, just by the way John sprawls in the chair across from her, that she's going to regret asking him how the mission went.

"How'd the mission go?" She opens, tone light, gaze trusting.

The man across from her raises one brow, obviously not buying the look on her face. "It went."

Not letting out a sigh, she asks, "How bad are the damages?"

There are seriously days when she regrets letting McKay and Sheppard off the city--but despite their track record, they really are one of the better teams for finding things. Even if the collateral damages aren't things she usually wants to deal with.

"Nothing bad happened."

Now her brows raise.

"Much." He winces, a little, then pulls that grin he loves so much. "Really, though, we didn't shoot anyone, and Rodney even found a doohickey."

"That you stole."

Looking a bit like a man who'd realized he possibly shouldn't have done something, he half-shrugs, "That's such a harsh word."

"Was it given to you?"

"Not really?"

"Is it technically ours?"

"Well, it's Ancient..."

Giving in to the urge, Elizabeth reaches up and rubs her forehead for a moment before she levels her gaze at John. "Major, I suggest you start from the beginning."

And maybe, just maybe, she won't entertain ideas of murdering him in his sleep. Though that would be a pity. He is very pretty, after all.


	23. Day Twenty-Three: Trapped In A Cave (not the fun kind)

The lights had gone out hours before. John was telling himself that wasn't a bad thing. Sure, it was dark, sure it was cold, sure he and Elizabeth were huddled together for warmth that wasn't going to last long enough. 

But it being dark meant, mean... he wasn't sure what it meant, to be honest. 

He wanted it gone. As much as he enjoyed night and sleeping and dancing in the dark, being stuck in a cave-in, injured, was not his cup of tea. 

Not that he drank tea. That was more Elizabeth's thing. 

Reaching up, he rubbed a hand over his face, almost poking himself in the eye when he miss-judged the distance he couldn't see. 

"Stop worrying."

He snorted. "Isn't that my line?"

"I spy with my little eye--"

"--something that begins with D."

She huffed out a breath and then snickered, coughed and winced all at once. John tightened his grip on her, wishing he didn't know that she was injured. 

Though he would have realized eventually, knowing definitely made him worry more. 

"Hey, I was going to say S."

"There are no shadows, Elizabeth." He realized he sounded indignant, and enjoyed the emotion for a moment. 

"Sure there are."

"No light, no shadows. Science fact."

She snickered again.

"You should sleep."

"Not sure I can."

In the dark, things weren't particularly clear. Sure, there were different things to focus on. The weight of Elizabeth against his chest, the way his ass was slowly freezing, the cramp in his lower back, and the throbbing pain from his left side and ankle. 

Plus, there was the smell of dirt and Elizabeth and blood. Not the best of combinations. 

And the sound of shouting. 

He blinked. 

"Think I'm hallucinating."

"You're not." There was something like relief in her voice, then she raised the pitch and tone and shouted for help. 

When an acknowledgment echoed to them, John felt himself relax. 

The light would come back.


	24. Day Twenty-Four: On a Mission Alone

From a height, the towers didn't look so bad. Not until one was closer, could the realization that the towers leant precariously against each other, their sides and supports blown, set in. Elizabeth stood in the jumper, just behind Sheppard as he slowly flew them through what was left of the city they had come to investigate. 

"She was a beauty," he murmured. 

"Yes." Setting her hand on his shoulder, she closed her eyes for a moment, imagining this as what would happen to Atlantis if they were not successful. 

While their teams were working to plan the defense, the two of them were on their own, the only people left. Lorne had pointed out that Sheppard would be useless until they needed him in the chair. And Zelenka and Teyla were as capable of wrangling the last of their scientists while Rodney went off on heights of ego and panic. 

Elizabeth hadn't been aware of leaving her seat until she'd realized she was staring at John's hair. Extra gel, this morning. Probably to distract from the planning of war. 

"We've got this, you know," setting the jumper hovering, he twisted to look up at her. "Dream team, Elizabeth."

Mustering a smile, she squeezed his shoulder. "Right. Dream team."

He grinned at her, then returned to his task.


	25. Day Twenty-Five: Sleepy Morning Sex

There was something adorable about John in the mornings (he wasn't a morning person), when he was befuddled and slightly cranky, and hard. 

Elizabeth enjoyed palming his cock and pulling him close for a sloppy kiss that usually ended in grumbling, fumbling, and an attempt to rock into her hip. Once he'd woken a little further, she'd roll him onto his back and roll herself onto him. 

Far too much effort to be kneeling and riding him, in the morning.

It was usually intense, shallow, slow thrusts that left both of them craving more until he woke further or she got tired of the delay and pushed herself up-right. 

Kissing was involved, sweet, drugging things that made her drag her fingers through his hair (he always complained about the extra gel he ended up using). 

He almost always came first leaving him barely awake enough. 

It didn't bother her. Not when he'd usually push her over onto her back, and make annoyed noises about how she took her sweet time before his mouth was on her, tongue and teeth and fingers working together to push her over the edge. 

Afterwards, it took him time to drag himself back up next to her. Eventually, they would drift back into sleep.


	26. Day Twenty-Six: Post-Battle death tolls

_Don't try to read the silence_ \- Nina Gordon 'The Time Comes'

So many dead. 

Elizabeth leaned heavily against the balustrade, looking below where they'd begun gathering the bodies for identification. If she counted them... She couldn't. Not yet. 

A footstep from her side, a shifting, sliding movement, told her that John Sheppard had joined her. He'd been injured, but survived and was currently walking with a limp that Keller thought would clear up in time. 

"I--"

"You did what you had to," he said.

She closed her eyes against the images before her. "That doesn't make it right."

An arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. If they were caught like this, she doubted anyone would care. So many people were gone that the expedition was decimated. "It's not--"

"You can't say that," she whispered, dread filling her as she looked down again. "I gave the order, John."

He went still, then leaned his head sideways, against hers. "I know. I don't know how to tell you that it never gets better."

Recalling his record made her blink. She turned a little, mouth pulled into a frown. 

"Elizabeth."

Once upon a time, she would have pushed. She would have prodded and poked and learned everything he wasn't saying. But she'd known John Sheppard for three years and through far too many trials and difficulties. Her arm came up and wrapped around his waist. 

And she remained silent.

They continued to lean into each other, long into the night.


	27. Day Twenty-Seven: Established Relationship; Everyone Burns Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is just sappy as hell.

John was trying to keep his face blank, but the rather burnt meat and watery vegetables on his plate weren't making it easy. It wasn't that Elizabeth was an awful cook, but when she was juggling cooking, and finishing off a report that had a tangent on linguistics and politics... well, she'd just lost track of what she was doing. 

"Stop making that face."

"I'm not making a face."

A huff from across the table told him she saw right through him. She always had. "I'll call. Do you want Thai or pizza?"

Setting his fork down, he met her gaze and offered her a half-grin of commiseration. After all, she never complained about _his_ lack in the culinary department, even if his excuses were more related to just being slap-dash, at best. "Thai."

It was her favorite after all. 

Giving him an approving look, she got up, grabbed their plates and went into the kitchen to phone for something a little less awful.


	28. Day Twenty-Eight: Dialog-Only Established Relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually not particularly happy with this, but it is what it is.

"Itsy-bitsy-teenie-weenie?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Colonel."

"Aw, but, Doctor. It's such a lovely, sun-shiny day. The sort where sun-bathing topless should be mandatory."

"Mhmm. I see. And how did that recent sexual harassment seminar go for you?"

"It, uh, went well... Not that I'd make inappropriate suggestions to a work colleague."

"Just a colleague, am I?"

"You could say that."

"I suppose you could. I, on the other hand... would say I'm far much more than that."

"Elizabeth, I'm pretty sure where you've placed your hand is considered sexual harassment."

"Does it count when it's my husband?"


	29. Day Twenty-Nine: RPF Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time since I paid attention to any of their personal lives. And I'm not entirely sure I paid attention to them at the time. 
> 
> Which is to say, this is the sort of RPF where I ignore the canon entirely, outside of the bits of stuff I've seen at conventions/on youtube when they joke around, etc. 
> 
> So if you're morally opposed to RPF, now is the time to hit back or close the tab/browser.

"We have to be quiet," Torri hissed at him, as he almost tripped over one of the taped-down electrical lines. 

A sputter of laughter from Joe made her clamp a hand over his mouth. He licked the palm, waggling his brows at her, and she asked herself yet again why she let him convinced of bad ideas like this. 

But the set was completely empty, the wrap party far away, and loud. And no one was going to go looking for them, not when it was the end of filming for another season and they were all wired and _relieved_ to be done with things. 

Grabbing her hand, Joe dragged her into the shadows of the famous Weir Balcony, where she watched over the Stargate. He pressed her up against the wall, dipping down to kiss her. 

He tasted of orange and alcohol from the drinks he'd been downing with Rachel and Kavan, earlier. Probably why he was being so reckless, pulling her into the deserted set. If she tasted of anything, he didn't complain.

His hands cupped her hips as he leaned against her. 

The wall gave slightly, the plywood groaning a bit, and Torri shoved at him, giggling. 

She'd been drinking Kavan's alcohol and orange soda, too. 

"I forgot how shitty--"

"Don't call my beautiful city shitty, Flanigan."

"Call it whatever I want, Higginson. It's _my_ city, too," Then a snicker escaped him, and he pulled her back against him, kissing her thoroughly before she could object. Still, she yanked at his hair, pulling his head back and little, and nipped at his chin. 

"Woman--"

"Don't you woman me--"

She twirled them around, backing him into the support pillar, with a soft thud. "Now, stop--"

"--you're the one--"

They were both giggling as they kissed again.

Eventually, they'd get back to the party. But not before he managed to trick her onto the stairs, where he got under her skirt and reminded her just how they'd gotten into this mess in the first place.


	30. Day Thirty: College AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely no one wants this, but I couldn't resist.

Elizabeth wasn't exactly sulking, but she was really wishing Teyla and Kate hadn't talked her into coming to this stupid party. The house they were in was over-flowing, loud, and more than a bit stuffy. It wasn't particularly enjoyable, but she did have herself to blame for finally agreeing. 

There were two papers she could have been writing, and a practice exam she hadn't yet finished. 

Not to mention the algebra she hadn't looked at since class almost a week ago. 

It wasn't that she hated math, exactly. But it was not her forte. Give her a pile of politics, arguments on all sides, and an ethical question mired in religious and anti-religious mores, and she could write a concise or in-depth analysis and give several possible solutions. 

Give her a set of numbers and various symbols, and... well, she was lost.

Bumped by someone, Elizabeth pulled herself from her thoughts and steered away from the two people who were sucking face next to her. 

"I'm telling you," a voice suddenly cut in, "The integers are not divisible by zero!"

"Sheppard, mate!" Another voice shouted, as three men suddenly came into focus. They were all visibly swaying from alcohol consumption. "Give the numbers a rest! The ladies are not into them!"

"The ladies--" Sheppard started, only to be cut off by his other friend shoving him into the wall with a laugh. 

For some reason, Elizabeth found herself lunging forward and catching his arm to brace him up. He swayed, peering at her, while his two cohorts cackled to themselves and disappeared somewhere further into the house. "You OK?"

"What?"

Shaking her head, she pulled his arm over her shoulder and steered them towards the doorway and out into the relatively calmer night air. 

Once away from the party, she didn't release him just yet as they stumbled down the steps and towards the bench swing someone had decided needed to be added to the front yard. It was an ugly red color during the day, but that was muted towards maroon at night.

"My mother," Sheppard mumbled, "Warned me about women kidnapping me from parties."

Elizabeth snorted and got him sitting on the bench, catching him as it swayed and joining him. He was continued leaning on her, and she really wished she didn't enjoy it. Ugh. "Don't be ridiculous. You should sober up."

"Why?" He was starting to nuzzle her hair. 

It was a little weird, but if he tried anything, she figured she'd have an excellent advantage. All she'd have to do was stand and walk away, and he'd probably fall forward and break his face. 

Which would be sad, it was a nice one. 

"Because," she informed him, accepting the weirdness of his nose in her hair for the moment. If he still did it when sober, she might actually like it. "You're going to tutor me in algebra."

"I am?"

"You are." After all, she'd realized who he was, half-way to the door. The guy her prof was always calling on to explain the tough equations in class. If he was more than just a parrot, he might actually get her through the stupid math requirement. 

"OK." He patted her shoulder, and went to sleep. 

Elizabeth heaved a sigh and contemplated dumping him on the ground. Nah. She'd just wait until he had a headache and then talk loudly and slam things.


	31. Day Thirty-One: Domestic Fluff (Socks)

She always left her socks everywhere. 

It wasn't the sort of quirk he'd expected of Elizabeth Weir. She was a controlled, smart, neat and precise woman. So finding out that when she pulled off her socks, she'd just toss them wherever and didn't seem to _care_ that they could land anywhere, or that she left them there for _days_... Well. He hadn't been expecting it. 

And it was annoying. 

He always made sure his own socks (and underwear and most of his dirty clothing) were neatly dropped into the hamper when he removed them--or as soon as he could, since there were times all he wanted was to collapse into sleep. And Elizabeth didn't seem to leave anything else out. 

Just her socks. 

John told himself there were so many other bad habits she could have. She could pick her nose, she could make him wear a gimp mask, she could eat messily, she could be uninterested in any sort of relationship with him, she could hate his face--well, maybe not the last. 

So he tried not to let it get to him. 

But there were days... there were days, when he wanted to grab them off the floor and ask her if she were against socks being clean, or something. 

He never did. 

The socks kept being left everywhere. 

Even when old age had claimed them, and the grand-kids were around, she still left her socks where they fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to round us out, fluff!
> 
> I've enjoyed this, even if I'm not proud of everything in this collection. I'm also pleased to have managed not to write any crossovers, and only, like, three AUs. No, wait, four. There was the vampire one, too.


End file.
